Sewing, Sweat and Smells
by UmiHoshi
Summary: Apparently, Arakita is good at sewing.


They found out some day in early June. Fuck that day. It was better if it hadn't existed...

"Oh! Yasutomo, I didn't knew you were good at sewing!" Shinkai's voice ringed as if he totally believes I was waiting to be praised.

Clicking my tongue, I hid the jersey I was trying to fix, as if that would completely hide all the evidence.  
"Shuttup and mind your own business." I sneered.

"I think it's endearing."  
"HaH!?"

"This is quite unexpected. I was so sure there was absolutely nothing cute about Arakita." Toudou mingled in, as if his opinion would matter.

I sighed exasperated and decided to just continue what I was doing, since: fuck them.  
"When my mom's out and the brats destroy something, they cry until I fix it. It's not like it looks pro-level or anything. Anyone with 2 hands could do this much."

My halve-arsed explanation was nothing to stop Shinkai and Toudou from probing me around and pissing the fuck out of me, though.

But that wasn't the worst.

I could stand it, with a sour face,

That is, until HE joined in on the conversation.

I first thought Fuku-chan was gonna help me out and get those two nerds off of my back, but...

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU KEEPING YOUR OWN JERSEY OUT FOR!?"  
He pointed.  
"I CAN SEE THERE'S A HOLE! WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO DO ABOUT IT!? HUH!?"

.

And it's since that fucking day that Fuku-chan always comes to me whenever he damages any of his clothing.

And I'm always that much of a dumbass to fix it for him.  
Damn it, Fuku-chan. This is what I mean with asking too much.

Also, was it just me or... Did they end up getting more damaged every time?

.

With some annoyed grunting, I followed Fuku-can home.

It had finally gotten to the point where I can't fix them in just a few minutes.

If I take his jersey to my place, there's big chance my sisters'll just tear it more.

So, as Fuku-chan said, he would 'take responsibility'. And now I was in his house.

"Make yourself at home; I will go get us something to drink."

"You know I only drink one thing."

"I know."

What? So Fuku-chan actually had Bepsi in house?

The convenient store was too far to just get some and Fukutomi or any of his family members hardly seemed the type to drink it.

So does that mean the stone-face had planned to invite me over?

"Real smooth, Fuku-chan..."

"hmn? "

"Nothin'."

"Ah. Before I leave..." He went to his closet and got out...  
...ANOTHER FUCKING RIPPED SHIRT!

"Who'd you think I am, Cinderella!?"

He nodded. He fucking NODDED!  
This fucking actual piece of fruitcake...

"I will get you that drink." He left. and I shit you not, he had a tiny smirk on his face.

.

"This guy was born to torment me..." I grumbled as I continued mending his fucking shirt.

He all but pulled the zipper off. Zippers are always a pain.

I held the jersey out in front of me, to check if there were more holes and stuff on it.

Just a few marks I fixed before... good...

My eyes glided over to the collar of his uniform. Fuku-chan's clothing size was marked on it.

Fuku-chan sure is huge. that's 2 sizes bigger than mine.

Well he IS very muscled...

...

Staring at the jersey for a while, some thoughts passed my mind.

He didn't wash this one, did he?

He tore it during today's training... to start with, washing a damaged shirt'd only make it worse.

so...

.

...

Heh.. Arakita Yasutomo, how you have fallen.

Then again, I've always had a thing with smells.

Looking around me like I was about to commit a crime,

I could only think 'ah, fuck it all!' and stuffed the shirt in my face.

.

Waiting a few seconds, hardly daring and internally scolding myself,

I eventually took a deep breath and sighed in the shirt.

It was definitely Fuku-chan's smell...

It was a bit sweet and salty. and some traces of his shampoo.

Okay. That was enough!...or maybe not...

Taking another deep breath, I felt my muscles relax.

mmhrrr... This is what it smells like, being close to Fuku-chan.

Yeah. I could totally pull off to a smell like t-

"-Also, Arakita." it sounded behind him.

"-WHAT!?" I didn't know how fast to pull the shirt away from my face.

fuck... fuck fuck fuck. Did he see that!?

.

"...?" Tilting his head slightly, Fuku-chan looked like one would to a cat who knows he just totally pushed a vase off the table.

But he let it slide. he hadn't noticed anything. or at least hadn't consider it to be abnormal.

(At this point in time, Fukutomi is the only one unaware of Arakita's major crush on him.)

"Also, Arakita." He repeated.

"I heard you the first time."

"..."

a 3rd shirt... a 3rd fucking shirt. there was an apple logo sewed on it and it was comming off.

"you-...ugh.." I face palmed, giving up completely. No one can stop this big-ass idiot.

I took it from him, resigning to even complain anymore.

.

"Arakita..." he spoke once more, after handing me my Bepsi and was staring at how I was fixing his stuff.

"What? It's not another shirt is it?" I would not even be surprised anymore if it was, though.

"...thank you."

"-?..."

I pulled my eyes away from the sewing and stared at him.

Fukutomi didn't repeat himself. I know well enough by now that his gratitude and praise are rare.

But he was gazing at me intensely. Whenever he did say things like that, he absolutely means it.

"ah-..h...hmm..." I nodded, my voice failing me.

I guess... this isn't so bad...

.

"Does my shirt smell bad?"

"ah-! t-that was-"

Shit!


End file.
